


Rooftop

by narcissaiy



Category: N.Flying (Band), Rooftop - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Emo, High School, Music, NSSI, Other, Sad, Self-Harm, Suicide, mental health, rooftop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 06:33:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18405083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narcissaiy/pseuds/narcissaiy
Summary: based off of the song Rooftop by N.Flying





	Rooftop

**Author's Note:**

> based off of my mental health//fiction

 

 

 

the worst part about being mentally fucked is that no one can tell when you want to kill yourself

 

actually no that’s not the bad part, it’s where you feel like you’re so alone in this world that you want to disappear into the ground. you want to be alone on your own terms. you just want some sort of control. 

 

that’s when she came to me. 

 

may 19th. that was the day i planned to throw myself off the roof of my apartment building. imagine going to school everyday feeling so alone and unwanted even though you have people with you. i was semi popular, a little odd. bad jokes, awkward, but I had friends. 

 

but under all the bad jokes was me, trying to hold myself together with dollar store scotch tape. was it anxiety? was it depression? god damnit I don’t know. my parents refused to let me seek treatment. honest to god all they cared about was if I was doing well in school. 

 

so no wonder my “best friends” didn’t know that i almost jumped off the roof a year ago. 

 

but i found her. 

 

actually we found each other. turns out she was going to jump too. the other side. that’s what she told me after she convinced me to come off the ledge and onto the concrete patio. 

 

she was almost the opposite of me. secluded at the other high school, she was bullied. the “dyke” they called her, just because of her piercings and haircut. turns out teenagers are more homophobic than we thought. didn’t help that her parents had 0 clue what was going on in her life. 

 

“I’m not really suicidal, I just hurt myself. I don’t know why.”

 

“Non-suicidal self injury,” I said, shifting my body weight so she can let her head rest on my shoulder, “NSSI, a self defense mechanism. Anxiety, I assume?” Yea, I was into psychological disorders. If I didn’t want to kill myself at any given moment I would have the motivation to go to med school. 

 

“Paranoia, Anxiety, depression, all these god damn labels. I’m just fucked. Can’t wait to leave.” 

 

I wish I knew what that really meant at that time. 

 

It became routine for us. I would have constant breakdowns at school, but they calmed down after she became my light. In the middle of the day I would message her, or vice versa. No one knew about it, and I had no romantic feelings towards her. We would meet after school on the rooftop until the sun set. Sometimes we did homework, but usually we just ate food and listened to music. 

 

A relief. Someone who finally understood what it meant to not understand why your fucked, but to just accept it. 

 

Best friend was a weird word, because it wasn’t a strong enough term to describe us. 

 

Her life consisted of getting shoved into lockers, crying in the stalls of bathrooms, eating lunch behind the brick wall, praying for a moment of peace during the day. Then she goes home to her parents, kind and who meant well, but completely oblivious to her life outside of the house. 

 

she locked herself in her room and sat on her bed most days, scratching herself, sometimes knowingly, other times not. 

 

“I mean I guess I don’t know I’m doing it, but when I do I don’t try to stop it.” 

 

Every day for a whole year. She was all I thought about. 

 

I finally opened up to her about my parent six-ish months in. 

 

“They’re delusional. Probably crazy. I love them but they don’t know what they’re doing. It’s funny, she’s a doctor and he’s a business school major, but they have no idea.”

 

fighting. every fucking day they fight. they hold grudges, leaving me in the middle to fend for myself. then they expect me to be happy and accept when they pull knives on each other or on me. or when they threaten to send me away. or when they degrade me to the point where all I want to do is dig myself a hole and lay there for years. 

 

I don’t believe in love or marriage because of it 

 

stress puts it lightly. 

 

maybe that’s where my mental fuckery stems from. or not. maybe I’m just crazy. again i don’t know why I go through each day exponentially more exhausted and depressed than the day before. 

 

she gets it. 

 

she has good things in her life but she also has bad things, like me. 

 

that feeling where you feel guilty because people have it worse than you and you have good things, cars, clothes, money, a nice phone, while kids in other places would kill to have a good pair of shoes. 

 

the guilt. it eats us away. 

 

and she gets it. 

 

and we let it eat us away. 

 

but we replenish each other. 

 

one year ago today I met her here on this roof. 

 

I met her the day we both wanted to end our lives. 

 

I guess somethings were meant to end anyway. 

 

two days ago she was torn away from this world. 

 

I guess not knowing the answer to her problems made her search for a different answer.

 

An answer she found at the bottom of the river, with bricks tied to her ankles. 

 

Is that why she left me? Again. I don’t know. 

 

So I guess this justifies why I want to search for a different answer too. 

 

Glass shards pierced my skin from where I smashed the mirror cabinet in my bathroom where all the pills are. A fit of anger. Aggression. Frustration? God knows. 

 

God. 

 

What a guy. 

 

He knows our fate and has the power to control it. And he just let her leave me. 

 

I found the bottle I was looking for. 

 

It was a new type of cold I felt when I entered the roof. 

 

7:54pm 

 

Sunset. 

 

I sat down behind the ledge where she sat with me a year ago. 6 months ago we celebrated her birthday. I remember ruffling her soft hair. A tradition. Her older sister did it all the time to her but after she went to college there was a lack of ruffles. 

 

I miss her. 

 

“I’m coming to see you.” I whisper into the horizon. 

 

Pills don’t taste good.

 

Relief does. 

 

I stared into the sky as the sun was setting. The stars started to peak. My universe is within arms reach. 

 

My view became hazy. I leaned back, letting the back of my head fall onto the cold concrete. I stretched my right arm out, as if she were there to lay on my shoulder like she used to do. 

 

The sky was getting fuzzy, my stomach tried to reject it. I felt my body convulse. But that was physical. 

 

I felt calm as I was leaving the world. I turned my head to the right. Her head was there. She was laying there next to me in my arms. 

 

I don’t know I’m leaving but I’m glad I am. I’m glad I’m with her again. 

 

It’s okay, she’s my universe. And she’s shining bright for me. 


End file.
